The Deaves Affair

Presently George Deaves called him back into the library. At what had taken place between father and son he could only guess. The old man's attitude had changed; he was disposed to be friendly. Divided between their fears and their suspicions father and son were continually making these face-abouts.

George Deaves said in his pompous way: "My father has re-considered his decision not to employ you further. He will be glad to have you stay according to the original arrangement."

"That's right," added the old man. "I just spoke a little hasty. I always said you were a good boy."

Evan's face hardened. "I'm not sure that I want the job," he said.

"Forty dollars a week's a fine salary," said Simeon Deaves.

"I'll stay for fifty," said Evan coolly.

They both gasped. "Are you trying to hold us up?" cried George Deaves.

"If that's what you want to call it," said Evan. "You force me to. If I appear anxious for the job, you will soon be accusing me again of being in the gang. As a matter of fact I don't care whether I stay or not."

"Well, I'll pay it," said George Deaves with a sour face, "provided you'll agree to investigate the list Hassell gave us in your spare time."

"I'll do it," said Evan. "I'm interested. You'd better discharge Alfred who is certainly a spy, and get a detective in his place to keep a watch on the other servants."

"Those fellows cost ten dollars a day!" cried Simeon Deaves.

"The blackmailers are getting five thousand out of you every fortnight," retorted Evan.

"I do not see the necessity for a detective," said George Deaves loftily. "As long as I'm paying you all this money. You can look out for that side of the case as well."

"Just as you like," said Evan smiling. It was hopeless to try to argue with these people.

Alfred entered, and giving Evan a wide berth laid a long envelope on George Deaves' desk. "Brought by messenger," he said. "No answer." He left the room.

Deaves paled as his eyes fell on the superscription.

"The same handwriting!" he murmured.

He nervously tore open the envelope. It contained some typewritten sheets, and a slip with writing upon it. George Deaves read the letter with a perplexed expression, and handed it over to Evan.

"What do you make of that?" he asked.

Evan read: "Received of George Deaves the sum of five thousand dollars in full payment of the story entitled: 'Simeon Deaves Goes Shopping,' including all rights. All existing copies of the manuscript enclosed. Many thanks. The Ikunahkatsi."

"Same old impudence!" said Evan smiling grimly. "This crook is something of a character it seems. Affects a kind of honesty in his dealings."

"Oh, he's kept a copy of the story," said George Deaves.

"Possibly. But why should he go to the trouble of making believe that he has not? – and send a receipt? Criminal psychology is queer. This is something out of the common that we are up against!"

CHAPTER IX

THE COMPACT IS SMASHED

Evan spent the afternoon walking about with Simeon Deaves. The old man was an indefatigable pedestrian. He had no object in his wanderings, but loved to poke into the oddest and most out-of-the-way corners of the town. They were not followed to-day so far as Evan could tell. At first Simeon Deaves was uneasy and suspicious of his body-guard, but finding that Evan took everything calmly for granted, he unbent and became loquacious. All his talk was on the same subject: how to get along in the world, i.e. how to make money.

Evan having taken him home at last, sank into the seat of a bus with relief. "Anyhow it will be good for my health," he thought.

Before going home he called at the studio of a friend, a member of the Barbizon Club, and without taking him entirely into his confidence, enlisted his aid in investigating the actions and habits of the men on Hassell's list. It may be said here, that nothing came of this.

Evan and Charley met for the evening meal. The irrepressible Charley was still singing about the red-haired girl. In spite of his boasts it appeared that his advances had consistently been turned down. Evan took a little comfort from this. Sullenness was unknown to the gay Charley and he was not a whit less optimistic because of his set-backs.

"You don't want a girl to be too come-on-ish," he said. "A highty-tighty manner adds zest to the game. They don't expect to be taken seriously when they turn you down, bless your heart, no. Why, if I let that girl drop now, she'd despise me for my faintheartedness. Sure, and be as disappointed as anything!"

Evan was not in much of a humour to laugh at him. Indeed he foresaw that an impossible situation would presently develop between Charley and him unless he said something. With an elaborately casual manner he began at last:

"I say, Charl, you and I have always played fair with each other."

"Well I should rather fahncy, as Lord Percy said. What's on your chest, boy? Unload! Unload!"

"It's only fair to tell you that I have become acquainted with the young lady in question."

Charley stared. "The Deuce you say! You, the scorner of the sex! Since when?"

"Two nights ago."

"And you never said a word about it. You let me shoot off my mouth all this time and never – "

"What was there to say?"

"You packed me off to the life class last night so you could – "

"That was for your own good!"

"Come off! Come off! Have I such a trusting eye? On the level why didn't you tell me before?"

What was Evan to say. He began an explanation that was no explanation. Charley's sharp eyes bored him through and through.

"By the Lord!" cried the latter at last, "Old Stony-heart has melted! St. Anthony has fallen for the caloric tresses. Touched where he lives, by Gad! Brought low and humbled in the dust!"

Evan grinned painfully. "Don't be a fool!" he muttered.

"How does it feel?" asked Charley with mock solicitude, "a dull ache in the epigastrium or a fluttering sensation in the pericardium; some lay stress on the characteristic feeling of heaviness behind the occiput."

"You wheeze like a vaudeville performer on small time," growled Evan.

Charley roared. He did not often get his partner on the grill like this. It was generally the other way about. But in the midst of his outrageous joshing it suddenly struck the warm-hearted Charley that under his game grin Evan was suffering very pretty torments. Charley jumped up and for the briefest of seconds laid his hand on his partner's shoulder.

"Look here," he said abruptly, "you know what I think of you really, or if you don't you'll have to take it for granted, for I'll never tell you. I haven't the words, but only a line of cheap cackle as you say. Understand, from this time on it's a clear field for you, see? Me for the Movies, to-night."

Evan was touched, but of course he couldn't show Charley his feelings, for that matter Charley did not require it. "You needn't go out on my account," he grumbled. "I don't expect to see her to-night. She has a date."

Such was the bitterness with which he said it, that Charley could not help but laugh again. "Cheer up!" he cried. "It has been known to happen. Fellows like you take it too hard. Hard wood is slow to catch, eh, but Lor' what a heat she throws out!"